« 9/11/2006 | Main | »
September 14, 2006
We signed Zeke up for T-ball this fall. I guess I just thought it would be a fun activity for him to do, and teach him a little about baseball, and get him some more outdoor time.
It has been going... not so well. He says he enjoys it, but I am frankly at the point where I would rather gouge out my eyes with a rusty spoon than go to another game.
It's just T-ball; what could possibly be going wrong? Well, the first practice was the first early warning sign. Zeke spent more or less the entire time -- and I do mean the entire time -- wandering around, refusing to pay attention to the coaches, digging in the dirt in the infield, and basically being completely unaware of his surroundings or anything that was happening around him. It was pretty frustrating for me, but I figured, hey, first practice, maybe it will get better.
A handful of practices and two games later, it's not any better. He had a game last night. Now, I will grant you that his team, and all the other teams, are full of 4- and 5-year-olds. Attention span problems are rampant, and Zeke is far from the only child to spend some time digging in the infield dirt, or wandering around aimlessly. But as far as I can tell, he is pretty much the only child to be doing it for the duration of the entire game. He usually has one of the coaches assigned solely to him, because otherwise he will take his hat and glove off and leave them in the outfield and wander off. Yesterday he almost got hit by a line drive because he was facing away from home plate, staring at something off in the distance.
It sounds kind of funny, I guess, now that I'm writing it all down, but it's not funny to have to sit there and watch the coaches say, "Zeke! Zeke! Zeke! Zeke! Zeke! Come on, buddy! Get your hat on! Zeke! Over here! The ball's over here! Zeke!" over and over again because your child is seemingly the only one who can't even manage to keep his hat on without coaxing and cajoling. And I'm at sea as to what to do. I went to the game last night with the attitude that I was going to be relaxed about it and not worry and just sit and watch, no matter what. No matter what! But by two-thirds of the way through, when Zeke was actually taking his hat off and hitting another player with it, I started yelling at him from the bleachers. "Come on, Zeke! Pay attention! No hitting!"
You have to yell pretty loud for a 4-year-old to hear you from 50 yards away, and a bunch of other parents shot me these looks, and suddenly I felt like Angry Yelling Mom. So maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But if I don't say anything and he just keeps hitting other players with his hat and glove, or throwing dirt, isn't that worse? Why isn't there a manual for this? Why aren't there parenting guidelines telling me what to do in case of a child who is apparently physically incapable of paying attention to T-ball?
Why is this so difficult?
And Keith's work schedule changed, so he couldn't be at last night's game, which meant I was also in charge of minding Stazi, and there is a big playground right next to the ball field, but I can't watch her on the playground and watch Zeke play T-ball, so we brought books and games for her to play with in the bleachers. This entertained her for about half an hour (not bad, I know) and then she wanted to run into the dugout areas, and stomp through puddles in her new school shoes (why did I bring her in those shoes?) so I was spending half of my time chasing after her and bringing her back, and half of my time with my stomach in knots watching Zeke get a disproportionate amount of his coaches' attention, and by the time Keith finally showed up, in the bottom of the final inning, I was almost in tears -- yes, tears -- and told him I didn't want to do this anymore.
Not helping the problem is the fact that I am awash in hormones right now, just awash. Everything seems more intense and more important than I'm sure it really is.
One of the other moms, right at the end of the game, sat next to me and gently said that it's important to keep your sense of humor, and that she wishes someone had told her that last year, because her Ryan had been just like Zeke back in spring, digging in the dirt and not paying attention, but he's doing quite well now, and she learned that you just have to take it not so seriously. It made me feel better, but I've tried to take it less seriously and it's not working, and I don't know why it's not working because usually my sense of humor is in excellent working order. I mean, why am I not writing a comic little journal entry about this? Why is it all sturm und drang? And furthermore, how much of my anxiety over this issue is about Zeke and his behavior, and how much is about my need to be seen as a good parent by other parents? I can't divorce the two in my mind.
Keith and I are addressing the immediate problem of Zeke's behavior by telling him that he is not going to get to go to Saturday's game unless he will show us today and tomorrow that he can be a good listener and pay attention when we are practicing in the back yard. We have a practice tee and bat for him. So maybe that will help, I don't know.
Okay. Deep breath.
In other Zeke news, I am reading him his first chapter book. It is an illustrated edition of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and he is really into it. We've been reading one chapter at a time, which is about right for his attention span, as the chapters in that book are relatively short. Although, last night he pleaded for just one more chapter, which I think is a good sign because it means he's really engaged in the story.
We were watching the movie version the other day -- the original -- and I offhandedly remarked to Keith that I wished they'd included the scene from the book that showed all the other children leaving the factory at the end, all messed up and stretched out or covered in garbage or whatever. Zeke overheard this and had a million questions. "What does messed up mean? What did they look like? Why were they messed up?"
Then that night, after we had read our chapter, he asked to have the book in bed with him, and I said okay. Several minutes later, I was passing his room on the way to the laundry room, and he wanted to show me something, so I said okay, what is it? He showed me the penultimate chapter in the book, with the illustration of the other four children leaving the factory, and triumphantly yelled, "Look! This is where they are leaving looking all messed up!"
T-ball or no t-ball, he is still my Zeke.
Posted at September 14, 2006 10:03 AM
Posted by: John Powell at September 14, 2006 11:31 AM
...you may be on to something there. No, one thing Zeke rarely is, is bored, that's for sure.
We're not going to quit halfway through the baseball season, but we might not be signing him up for next spring, either. It kind of depends on how the rest of the season goes and how much he wants to keep playing. The thing about all of this is that Zeke says he is having a lot of fun and enjoying himself, so even though it's hard for me to watch, I'm kind of inclined to let him keep doing it.
Posted by: Jan at September 14, 2006 2:00 PM
I think the base problem here is adults interfering with children's play. If Zeke isn't interested in paying attention to the adults, then he should be doing something less organized. Its obvious to me he doesn't have to be told how to have fun, afterall in your depiction, you never once said he looked bored!